


Snowed In

by imusuallyobsessed



Series: Of Monsters and Men [2]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Oh no there's only one bed, Snowed In, Zombie Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-24
Updated: 2019-01-24
Packaged: 2019-10-15 16:01:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17531819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imusuallyobsessed/pseuds/imusuallyobsessed
Summary: Felicity finally convinces the team to let her go on a supply run with Oliver. Things go awry.





	Snowed In

**Author's Note:**

> For some reason, I literally can’t stop talking to my friends about wanting to go camping (aka snuggling in a nice cabin in flannel pajamas with hot chocolate). So, this is my desperate attempt to feel these campy feels, then get over them so I can be a productive member of society.
> 
> Plus, some of my favorite tropes. Hope you enjoy! Unapologetically unbeta'd, so please be nice.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Oliver chanted under his breath as he bundled a shaking Felicity into the cabin. She was shocked he’d even seen it blending into the dark, matchstick trees, the contrast against the pristine snow disorienting even at night.

 

“Ya kiss yer mother wi’that mouth?” Felicity slurred past her unresponsive, numb mouth, trying to lighten the mood as Oliver slammed the door behind them. The cabin was dark and almost as cold as outside, though it was a blessed shelter from the wind. Felicity giggled, which felt odd since she was pretty sure she was so cold her  _ bones  _ were numb.. “Guess you’ve kiss’d way more’n yer mom.”

 

Oliver didn’t respond, fortifying the door with a convenient lock-down bar and shoving an overturned bookcase in front for good measure.

 

Felicity concentrated on staying upright. Her entire body felt frozen, but her feet and calves were truly, terrifyingly numb from the trek through the snow. Water dripped off her sodden clothes, creating a puddle around her ice-block feet.

 

“I’m sorry,” she blurted, unable to stop her mouth. It was one of the only ways she could still feel her lips, and even then her jaw was slow and unwieldy, giving her a strange accent. “I didn’t mean to fall into the lake, I thought the ice—”

 

“Hush, Felicity,” Oliver reprimanded softly, and the mix of such a gentle tone on words he’d never said before had her obeying. Normally, Oliver loved her babbles. At least, he said he did. He’d stare at her with this intent look in his eyes, a small smile at the corner of his mouth.

 

But for once, he was actually asking her to be quiet. Which meant he needed to concentrate.

 

Oliver didn’t run or scramble or dart around like a normal person would—like Felicity would—in his situation. He wasted not a single movement and moved with purpose, striding through the little cabin like he owned it. The whole cabin was just a small sitting room on the left with a loveseat and chair in front of a wood-burning fireplace and a tiny kitchen to the right. One door led off the back, and Felicity prayed for a bathroom.

 

One thing the zombie apocalypse had taught her: bedrooms were overrated. Bathrooms reigned supreme.

 

“Come here.” Oliver beckoned Felicity to where he was crouched in front of the fireplace. Dry logs were piled next to it, and Oliver had already assembled a few in the hearth, interspersed with bits of old newspaper. A quick glance at the headline told Felicity it was from more than a year ago. More than a year since everything went to hell.

 

Oliver took some flint out of his pocket and within minutes, the sharp, hot smell of sparks hit Felicity’s nose and Oliver created a cheerful fire. The heat burned Felicity’s icy skin.

 

“You’ve got to get out of those clothes,” Oliver said, wrestling Felicity’s heavy, dripping parka off her shoulders.

 

A year in the zombie apocalypse had rid Felicity of most of her sense of modesty, but if she’d had any blood that wasn’t running way colder than normal, it would’ve flooded her cheeks at the situation. Oliver Queen, arguably one of the most handsome men Felicity had ever seen, undressing her. Because she’d fallen into a lake in the middle of winter outside of Chicago, which was buried in zombies and snow.

 

In her defense, the ice had looked thick enough to hold her weight.

 

Felicity tried to help, but her fingers were useless and clumsy. Oliver softly pushed them out of his way and quickly disrobed her, shoes and soaking socks, glasses, and all.

 

When she was down to her underwear, Oliver sat her close to the flames and wrapped her head to toe in several thick, musty but warm quilts until only her face was exposed. Felicity hadn’t even seen them, but they must’ve been in the now-empty basket in front of the fire. “Take off your underwear and give them to me.”

 

Too cold and miserable to protest or care, Felicity did as she was told.

 

Oliver was on the move again, draping her soaked clothes over various things close enough to the fire to dry them out, but far enough away they wouldn't catch fire. Felicity shifted in her blanket mountain, hating the useless feeling.

 

Oliver and John were veterans who’d just gotten off their last tour when the world went to shit. Their battlefield instincts and skills translated near-perfectly to the apocalypse. Sara’s and Nyssa’s pasts were more complicated, but they involved plenty of combat and survival skills as well.

 

Felicity had been a computer science and cybersecurity masters student at MIT. She was more comfortable sitting on her ass for 24-hour coding binges than anything physical. The closest to survival she got was microwaving ramen. Then, she’d been taken by HIVE for half a year. They hadn’t exactly focused on physical fitness or wilderness survival. If they’d had their way, she never would’ve escaped.

 

Felicity shook her head as much as she could in her cocoon, banishing those dark thought. Sara and Nyssa had saved her. She was free now.

 

But even since then, Felicity still wasn’t in top physical health. Her band of merry men and women always prioritized her—they thought she didn’t notice—but there was only so much to go around and she had less body mass than the others. She was still underweight from her time in HIVE. And, she had what Nyssa fondly referred to as a bleeding heart. At least, Felicity forced herself to assume it was fondly. She just couldn’t  _ not  _ save people. It was her duty. Literally, it was in her blood. It was her work to do, her mission to carry. Whether or not she finished didn’t matter, as long as she didn’t quit.

 

Oliver started moving around the tiny cabin awkwardly, stomping his feet every step, eyes intent on the wooden planks like he was looking for something.

 

“What’re you doing?” Felicity asked lowly, a tiny snake of heat beginning to curl into her from the fire. She’d start shaking soon. Hopefully. Her body needed to start fighting to save itself. She couldn’t do all the work.

 

“Following a hunch—”  _ thud  _ “Ah, I was right.”

 

Felicity twisted around in her blanket burrito only to see Oliver crouched behind the couch. “What is it? Can I help?” she asked, wanting to get up but unable to find a scrap of strength or will in her tired limbs.

 

Oliver’s head popped back up and he fixed her with a stern look. “Your job is to stay right there and warm up. Just… Let me take care of you, okay?”

 

Felicity would’ve gone red if she had any blood to spare—her crush was getting ridiculous—but Oliver had already ducked back down and wouldn’t have seen it anyway. Another strange  _ thud  _ followed.

 

“But wait, what is it?”

 

“A storage room!” Oliver’s voice echoed strangely, and Felicity assumed he was now under the cabin. “There’s a ton of food down here!”

 

Felicity’s stomach seized at the mention of food and she could’ve cried. Neither of them had eaten since that morning. They’d gone on a scouting mission. Normally, Felicity wouldn’t have been chosen to go, but she’d been training so hard with weapons and hand-to-hand. And she’d basically insisted. Being useless was exhausting. She felt like a drain on resources, and wanted to contribute.

 

This was finally her first scouting mission, ever. Felicity doubted any of them would ever let her go on another.

 

“I’m allergic—”

 

“To nuts, Felicity.” Felicity jerked at Oliver’s voice, much closer than she’d anticipated. She looked over her shoulder and saw Oliver had emerged, arms laden with cans and bags and… was that  _ raw meat _ —

 

“It’s not raw, it’s salted,” Oliver said in response to the beginnings of her horrified expression. He turned to the little kitchen and set down his burden on the miniscule counter. “Did you honestly think I’d forget your allergy? After what happened last time? I’m just thankful you still had an Epi-Pen. We have to be even more careful now.”

 

“Yeah, I’m thankful, too,” Felicity mumbled, shuddering at the memory.

 

Oh, she was just shuddering. “Hey,” she announced, trying to inject some enthusiasm into her thawing voice. “I’m sh-shivering n-now.”

 

Felicity had put her back to the fire, not liking that she couldn’t see Oliver. The sight of him was sometimes all it took to calm her down in their insane world.

 

That meant she saw him sharply look over his shoulder, assessing her from the top of her head to the bottom of the lump her body had become.

 

“Good,” he said, then turned back to his work. “You’re warming up. You… You scared me for a minute out there.”

 

Felicity sighed. “I scared me, too.”

 

She’d thought about telling Oliver to just leave her, when they’d started to hear groaning and shuffling in the snow. But she hadn’t mustered up her courage by the time he saw the cabin.

 

It was an odd balance, knowing she had to live for the cure in the blood, but not wanting  anyone to die protecting her.

 

Oliver used the little kitchen like a pro, and the familiar sounds of cooking soothed Felicity even further. Whenever they had shelter or it was safe to build a fire, Oliver loved to cook what he could for the group. He always joked his field missions in Afghanistan helped him get by with making something out of nothing.

 

Felicity reflexively glanced at the fire, just now considering the implications of smoke, even at night. But she settled a moment later. Oliver wouldn’t have lit a fire if the benefits didn’t outweigh the risks.

 

If there was one thing these past six months had taught her, it was that she could trust Oliver Queen with her life.

 

Felicity let herself float while Oliver cooked, basking in the rare feeling of peace and security. Delicious scents of cooking meat, garlic, and spice wafted through the air, and her mouth immediately started watering. Food wasn’t scarce, per say, especially considering the other four members of her party could hunt. But spices and fresh food were treats.

 

A soft rustle had Felicity opening her eyes. She smiled when she saw Oliver was sat in front of her, concerned etched between his brows. “How are you feeling?” he asked.

 

Felicity shrugged as much as she could, wrapped up in blankets. “A little better,” she murmured, feeling loose and relaxed. “Tired.”

 

Oliver hummed and rested a broad, warm hand on her forehead. His skin smelled like garlic and cayenne pepper, though he’d certainly washed them, and Felicity took a deep breath. “You can’t sleep until you eat something. You’re too thin as it is. And your body needs energy after today.”

 

The reminder brought Felicity back down to earth. She grimaced and Oliver’s hand slid back to his lap. “I’m sorry. About today. I really wanted to come and prove myself since you and John and Sara and Nyssa do so much for me but I just ruined everything—”

 

“ _ Felicity _ .”

 

And that was all it took. Oliver could silence her babbles like no one else, a centering force that helped her take control of her voice and calm down.

 

“Take a deep breath.”

 

Felicity complied.

 

“It’s alright, Felicity. Things happen. You did a great job today.”

 

“But I fell into a lake! A river or something I can understand, but lakes are big and hard to miss and don’t  _ go  _ anywhere.”

 

Oliver shook his head, a fond smile tugging his lips. “You were running from a zombie. You thought the ice was thick enough. We’re all wrong sometimes. Even you, Miss Mensa.”

 

Felicity huffed, refusing to admit there was a pout pursing her lips, and Oliver’s expression morphed into a full-blown smile. Frack, he looked  _ incandescent  _ when he smiled.

 

“Sara, Digg and Nyssa know the risks and we have a plan for something like this. You helped  _ make  _ the plan.” It was true. They’d wait for a few days at base camp, then head out if Oliver and Felicity never came back. Which they would, since they weren’t dead. But…

 

“Yeah, that plan worked  _ so  _ well when I was taken,” she retorted. Felicity was happy to finally be able to joke about the experience. It had taken the rest of her team even longer to reach that point. They’d only just recently stopped being overbearingly protective.

 

Oliver shrugged unapologetically. “Some rules don’t apply to you.”

 

“That’s not fair.”

 

“Get over it.”

 

Felicity stuck out her tongue and Oliver barked a laugh. “Did you just stick out your tongue at me?”

 

She shrugged. “Get over it.”

 

It was only then Felicity realized how close they were. They’d leaned steadily toward each other, until there was barely a foot between them. Felicity was suddenly very conscious that she was naked under the blankets.

 

Oliver jerked back first, looking reflexively to the kitchenette. Felicity fought to ignore her crushed heart.

 

It was the zombie apocalypse. There were bigger things to worry about than whether or not a boy liked her.

 

Oliver decamped to the other side of the room and Felicity turned away, fixing her eyes on the burning, cheerful fire. The scent of smoke was strange in her nose and throat, but she found it oddly comforting. There hadn’t been many reasons for a fireplace in Vegas and she’d lived in dorms at MIT, where they weren’t even allowed hot plates or candles.

 

But she’d seen enough movies and read enough books for “cheerful fire” to equal “comfort” in her mind. 

 

Felicity let herself float again, and before she knew it Oliver was sitting in front of her again with a steaming bowl of chili in each hand. The warm scent of cooked meat and spices—cumin, cayenne, paprika, and _ garlic _ —hit her stroked her nose like a cat’s tail and her mouth instantly watered.

 

She started wiggling in an attempt to free her arms, but a Oliver quickly said, “Hey, hey, hey, wait.”

 

Felicity complied, but stared at him quizzically as he sat one bowl down and grasped the spoon in the other. “You should stay wrapped up,” he explained. And oh, when he turned those wide, earnest blue eyes on Felicity, it made her want to do anything he asked.

 

Except, maybe… “Wait, are you going to  _ feed  _ me?”

 

“What’s the other option?”

 

“I can feed myself?”

 

Oliver fixed her with a stern look. “Will you just humor me? Please?”

 

Felicity thought about fighting it. She really, really did. Oliver sat patiently while she worked through her emotions, until she finally settled on resignation with a sigh. She inclined her head as regally as possible and said, “Very well, then.”

 

Once the first burst of flavor hit her tongue, Felicity didn’t care about being fed anymore. The spicy, fragrant mix of meat, beans, and a hint of tomato sent her hurtling back to the one time Donna had ever tried to take her camping and burned all their food. Oliver’s was infinitely better, but the memories were still sweet.

 

As usual when Felicity thought of her mother, she viciously shoved the thoughts aside. Donna Smoak had survived over twenty years at Caesar’s Palace working 14-hour shifts in 4-inch heels. Zombies had nothing on elitist high-rollers and handsy fuckboys.

 

Felicity let herself enjoy the moment, refusing to blush under the awkward intimacy of being fed by the guy she had a massive crush on. Oliver was intent and careful, never letting any drip or spill. But that meant he was staring at her mouth. A lot. And even though Felicity  _ knew  _ it was because he was just being thoughtful and considerate, she had to force her mind not to wander.

 

“A lot going on in there,” Oliver mused, tapping his pinky against her temple.

 

Felicity took her time swallowing the chili in her mouth. “Y-Yeah,” she stammered, hating herself. “Just…”  _ your eyes on me _ , “my mom.”

 

Instantly, she felt like the worst daughter in existence. Using her mom as an excuse to throw Oliver off the scent of her feelings. She  _ was  _ worried about her mom. Almost constantly. But it was a background worry, like leaving the TV on so you don’t feel alone in your house. The… Oliver situation was immediate and  _ present _ .

 

Oliver’s face melted into a strange mix of stern yet concerned, and Felicity shook her head. “I know, we kind of… Don’t talk about the people we don’t know are alive or not, but—”

 

“Fuck that,” Oliver said with a shake of his head. “If you want to talk, talk. It’s easier for most of us not to talk about other people. But if it’s not easier for  _ you _ … I’m always here to listen.”

 

_ That  _ was why she couldn’t get Oliver out of her head. Sara, Nyssa and John were all attentive and caring in their own ways, but something about Oliver’s attention was  _ different _ . He noticed the smallest things about her, and always went out of his way to make sure her comfort was a priority in ways the others didn’t. Not just physically, but emotionally.

 

But… “That goes both ways, you know,” Felicity said.

 

Oliver tilted his head. Felicity added, “You never talk about yourself. Or how any of this is affecting you. I mean, you have a few times… About Thea and Tommy. But not a lot. But you… Can. If you want.”

 

_ Smooth, Smoak. _

 

Oliver smiled. He didn’t do it often, and it completely transformed his already-beautiful face into something truly ethereal. Like the sun had risen early. It almost chased the last of the chill from Felicity’s icy body.

 

The reminder of her earlier dunk in the freezing lake sent a delayed chill racking through Felicity, and Oliver hummed, concerned face back on.

 

Felicity instantly missed the smile.

 

“Are you done?” Oliver asked, raising the mostly-empty bowl. Felicity nodded, shivering in her blankets.

 

Oliver cleaned everything up, presumably scarfing down his own food in the interim, and by the time he returned to Felicity she was truly shaking. That was good, because it meant her body was regaining all its feeling. It was also bad, because the feeling was  _ cold _ .

 

“Come on.” In an instant, Oliver had crouched and lifted Felicity—blankets and all. She couldn’t even feel his broad chest through the thick quilts, which should’ve been a crime.

 

Within seconds, he deposited her on the couch—no, bed?

 

“What-t?” Felicity chattered, looking at the soft-ish surface underneath her. The couch had pulled out into a bed. “When d-did—”

 

“While you were shivering,” Oliver answered before Felicity tried to stammer more of the question. “It’ll give you more room than the couch, and hopefully be more comfortable. And…” He trailed off, staring down at where she was sitting on the bed. She probably looked like a little matryoshka doll, with only her face visible.

 

Felicity could read Oliver by now. That look meant he had something to say but wasn’t sure how it would be received.

 

“Spit it out.”

 

Oliver grinned, just a brief flash of amusement without teeth. It still sent Felicity’s heart skittering.

 

“My training in the Army, we did some medic work… You’ll stay warmer if we sleep together.”

 

Not even a  _ hint  _ of blush at the innuendo. How did he  _ do  _ that?

 

“Skin to skin contact… Since my body is warm and yours isn’t, it’ll make you warm faster and keep you warm.”

 

Felicity tilted her head, her mind jumping to a random fact that chose that moment to be remembered. “Mr. D-Deployed in Af-fghanist-tan knows s-snow survival?”

 

Oliver’s warm expression didn’t change but… There was something in his eyes. Just a flash. Felicity would’ve been able to dissect it better if she hadn’t been  _ so damn cold _ —

 

“I also saw it on  _ Man vs. Wild _ .”

 

Felicity rolled her eyes with a huff. “As long as you d-don’t t-try anything. I’m nak-ked under h-here.”

 

Oliver had already started stripping his outer layers. “Never,” he said, so solemn and heavy, Felicity would’ve believed anything he told her in that voice.

 

Felicity couldn’t look too much at Oliver stripping down to his boxers, or she never would’ve been brave enough to let him slip into her blanket burrito and wrap his—  _ Oh frack, he was warm _ .

 

“You’re freezing,” Oliver hissed, but only wrapped himself around her more. Felicity sighed, unable to stop herself from pressing her icy toes against his leg.

 

“You’re so  _ warm _ .”

 

“Yeah, yeah.”

 

Felicity already felt herself slipping into sleep, unable to stop the magnetic pull from blanketing her eyes once she was finally warm.

 

“Go to sleep, Felicity,” Oliver murmured. Were those his lips against her hair? Did she imagine it? Everything already felt like a dream. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you guys enjoyed! Again, this is part of a series. If you'd like updated, please subscribe to the series, "Of Monsters and Men," not this particular work!
> 
> Please let me know what you thought, and check out my Tumblr and Twitter, linked below! I'd love to hear from you!
> 
> Tumblr: [@imusuallyobsessed](http://imusuallyobsessed.tumblr.com/)  
> Twitter: [@usuallyobsessed](https://twitter.com/usuallyobsessed)


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